


Pies and Promises

by blankdblank



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Relationship, Arguments, Attraction, Courtship, First Meetings, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Lovers Quarrel, Running Away, Seeking Shelter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 09:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19390954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blankdblank/pseuds/blankdblank
Summary: A deep seeded hatred of Elves drives a secret noble from King Thorin's halls through a blizzard and into the Elven lands in seek of shelter. An innocent offer is taken far deeper than intended with the Elf King in search of how to pass on the simple comforts of life.





	Pies and Promises

Four hours you had slaved over the feast for the night. A feast the Dwarves had seemed all too eager to enjoy without any urge to help at all. It seems the darkness in Thorin’s eyes had spread through the Company and into Dain’s group of Dwarves’ as well. Alongside Radagast you had flown farther south on a secret mission to handle the cursed trinket you had found. The Wizard wasn’t certain you were correct and yet with the exploding city far behind you begged to differ.

In your absence words were traded, cells were locked then unlocked and barrels ridden to freedom that soon turned into a bartering for home again. For their cunning trick Thorin had sent word once landing in Laketown easing their freedom, though upon your return you found the hidden door easily as well as the now stone formed dragon in the giant hoard.

The great stone was found and in your baking for the celebratory feast you caught whispers of Elves having visited and been turned away in search of a chest of sacred jewels. Months you had tolerated the whispers and comments about your people, or at least those meant to be your people. For literal ages since before the moon had first strolled across the sky you had been among the Hobbits. Clearly from Elrond and Glorfindel’s awed hours of conversing with you they were certain of your being the daughter stolen away from High King of the Elves, Ingwë. For years you had gone by _Nieninque_ meaning snowdrop or "white tear", meant to describe the blizzard you were found wandering in as a child with a bad bump on your head, far too young to be out alone.

Tall, or short rather, for Elven standards, about half a foot under the usual six feet minimum they all seemed to bear and well over the height of most of your Dwarf Company. Shimmering silvery white curls you kept tied out of your face in a mowhawk style braid down the center of your head tucked up into a drooping bun at the base of your neck with a chunk of your curls swinging past your purple silver flecked eyes in another glance at the door.

Months you had tolerated the comments and puzzled expressions at your bond with your youngest ward Bilbo, who you had joined to protect on this foolish quest. Head over heels he’d fallen for the sullen King who seemed to want nothing to do with you. Especially now that his kin had returned. Through the door you heard the commotion, again insults for the Elf King ending with an odd clatter following, “-Show those Elves the proper manners in their precious Feast!”

A peek through the door had your lips quivering as the hours of food you had prepared was now being used as ammunition in a ripple of tussling Dwarves in the banquet hall on the lowest floor the day prior you had spent most of it scrubbing it to be ready for the Feast. Warmly tears streamed down your cheeks as you cradled the warm wild berry pie you had baked special for the King’s return to his throne on your path back to your assigned closet of a room in one of the old taverns while the Dwarves all claimed their relatives’ former homes or the proper guest rooms. Along the way you found a basket you stuffed with warm towels hoping it would keep the pie warm and collected your bags, unaware of the young Dam who spotted your teary exit from the keep off the overlook with the aid of a sturdy rope once you had made another quick stop.

At your request Elrond had kept your lineage to himself while you truly had no memories of your kin or lost home past the language none seemed to know in these lands past the Hobbits you taught it to, the first sign revealing your odd lineage to the puzzled Lord. All only confirming your oddity for the Hobbits, whom the Elves in Lindon had taught them and you proper Quenya in the ages of neighboring them to honor the old bond between your kin. Outside the mountain you drew your hood down a bit farther, the silvery material aiding in your blending into the blizzard around you as you clutched the basket tighter to your chest.

The distance seemed to grow and yet each glance back confirmed you had crossed a great deal of distance. One step after another you neared the woods looming over you until the warm poisoned trees towered over you shifting in irritation to block out the snow from high above you. For hours it seemed you followed the path until a large body landed in front of you, loudly you shrieked falling backwards with the basket in your lap panting as your stared up at the frozen white stag in front of you.

In an easy motion you removed your hood and let out a weak chuckle seeing the stag relax seeing your pointed ears while you mumbled, “I thought you were a-,” Wordlessly your eyes rose to the massive eight legged body lowering from the canopy above. In your frozen stance you whispered, “Run,” sending the stag on his way again while you stared up at the creeping beast you hoped had missed you.

However the only silver cloaked being in the darkened roots and dirt left you far from invisible. At your flinch to jump up and run three redheaded Elves leapt our from behind you firing arrows at the spider while an odd blonde leapt out over the body of another spider you had missed and walked over to you. Curiously he looked you over and offered you his hand, quickly you ensured your feet were off your cloak and rested your hand on his palm. Firmly he gripped it and gave it a gentle tug helping you up onto your feet and tilted his head at your faint smile and Quenya, _“Thank you.”_

In a glance over the trio of redheads towering over you beside the tall blonde you asked at their silence, _“You, obviously, don’t speak-,”_ you wet your lips and switched to Westron, “Do, do you speak Westron?”

The blonde nodded his head, “Yes, we do. Westron and Silvan mainly.”

You nodded and the redheads all eyed your basket you were securing across your chest saying, “I, um, I was wondering if I could speak to, um,” your brows furrowed for a moment, “Is it, Thran-duil,” in the hesitant tone you stated his father’s name Legolas’ lips fought to twist up into a smirk, “Your, King?”

The leader of the redheads tilted her head and asked, “Might we ask for what purpose, my Lady?”

You shook your head making her brow inch up, “No, I, I’m not a Lady, title wise, at least. I, he won’t know me, but I, I heard King Thorin had been, it’s really complicated, it would only take a few minutes. Or, I could just go…” Your eyes followed the path and the group all caught your fearful gaze into the infested path ahead you would have to face alone.”

The redhead stated, “You would have to hand over your weapons.”

“Oh, um, I don’t really have any…That is, I have a packed quiver and bow, but the string snapped a few days back with only two arrows. All I really have is a folding knife, which the Princes bent in a throwing contest so now I can’t get it unstuck. I mean, I could probably chuck it at him, leave a nasty bruise maybe, but if he’s anything close to your height I doubt I could outrun him for long.” Around you grins formed at your nervous rambling while they finally noticed your full appearance shining a bit brighter in your ease at the company. “Plus he has the home field advantage, knows all the paths to take, and I’m outnumbered-…”

Legolas’ grin settled fully and he stated, “I doubt we will need to search the Lady, Tauriel.” His eyes scanned over you asking, “What, might I ask would your name be?”

“ _Nieninque.”_

The name made his lips part and the group to tense for a moment making you nod your head, “I see Lord Elrond got eager with the news of his discovery.”

He bowed his head, “We will show you to the King.” Motioning his hand to the side guiding you down the path ahead to the gates.

.

Through the gates you paused hearing the commotion making the Prince pause and turn to you only to chuckle after you said, “I’m interrupting a party…”

Legolas shook his head gently easing his hand onto your upper back, “No need to worry. Plenty of time left, Ada always has time for visitors and messengers.”

“A-Ada?” His eyes lowered to meet yours and he grinned at your asking, “You’re the Prince?”

He nodded his head, “Prince Legolas. Though Princess, there is no need for titles between us.”

“But, I’m not…”

Your eyes turned forward to the opening throne room where you spotted the Elf King in a deep silver robe with a burnt orange wrap resting over his arms matching the fallen leaves tucked into his silver crown resting in his white hair. The sealing of the doors turned him away from the table of fabric you assumed to be napkins in varying shades and folded shapes to look over the group approaching him. In Doriathian he stated to Prince Legolas, _“Your rounds are not over for a half hour yet.”_

Legolas nodded and stepped aside revealing you to the King who turned to you all fully, _“We came across High Princess_ _Nieninque. Who requested to speak with you.”_

Thranduil nodded and the group broke apart in his path closer to you speaking in Westron plainly, “Princess, welcome to Greenwood. Lord Elrond wrote of your arrival, and abrupt departure, he is here and would be grateful to speak with you again, ensuring your safety. You are welcome here as long as you wish.”

“I, well that is, I wouldn’t wish to be in your way.” His brow ticked up, “You seem to be in the middle of a party.”

Thranduil cracked a hint of a grin through a weak relieved exhale, “It is our Feast of Starlight, and we have a few hours yet until it has begun.” He glanced at Legolas for a moment then to you again asking, “My son stated you wished to speak to me about something?”

You nodded and raised the basket between you, “I made you a pie.” His lips parted again looking at the basket then to you again while all around him stole a glance at you in shock then to him. “It, isn’t anything spectacular, just a simple wild berry pie, which may be completely frozen or lukewarm at best, depending on how it fared in the trip from Erebor.”

Anxiously through his racing heart he tried not to focus on your clear offer of courtship to ask in a far from confident tone, “You baked me a pie?”

You nodded, “Well, I heard the Dwarves, Thorin especially was a bit past rude to you and has been so unlike himself. And well, I mean it was a dragon, what exactly did he expect. You’re all so tall but even you are highly flammable and probably incredibly delicious.” At the next tick up of his brow your tongue flicked out to wet your lips at the breaking off of your voice in your soft blush and rapid blink, “Anyways. They had a dinner planned and it was rude to not invite you along, so I brought you a pie, hoping,” you paused again at his feet shifting under his long robe anxiously, “I really didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He shook his head extending his hand accepting your basket and offer of courtship then he stated, “Tauriel will escort you to your quarters to change.”

His brow ticked up and you added in a timid tone, “All I have is a dress Lord Elrond gifted me in Rivendell, it’s nothing,” your eyes wandered to the opening doors to the throne room revealing a gaggle of Ladies all in glittering gowns giggling in their pass behind the King still looking you over curiously. Unable to note your figure under your cloak hanging around you, the Ladies all passing with spreading scowls seeing their attempt to gain the King’s attentions failed miserably once again. “Like those gowns.”

Plainly he glanced at Tauriel and stated, “Have my Seamstresses attend Princess Nieninque’s quarters. Lord Elrond and his Ladies have been gathering a supply of gowns since your departure in hopes we would be graced with your company again soon.”

You nodded and looked to the basket he was now cradling in his arms, “I hope it suits your taste, and isn’t too frozen. If you prefer it warm.”

In a half smile he stated, “I am certain it will be marvelous.” His fingers inching around the basket in a nervous fidget in his eagerness to taste it already, “It feels plenty warm. You wrapped it amply it seems to protect it from the cold.”

With a nod you followed Legolas to your guest quarters. The lavish apartment in the Royal Wing spread out with several rooms. Two bedrooms, a sitting room and small study prefilled with books all wrapped around a kitchen and dining room on the other side separating the open dining room, that peered into an open maze of walkways and balconies in the distance of the kingdom, from the waterfall fed hot spring in your bathroom feeding into your large closet. A deep sigh left you as you lowered your large pack onto the chest at the foot of your bed in a dazed stare past the curtain wrapped four poster bed with a set of windows covering the wall peering out over a set of gardens now lit by crystal lanterns at the darkness from the thickening storm blocking out the stars.

Behind you a set of chests were all placed around you and the Prince bowed his head to you seeing the head Elleth nearing you and unhooking the pin securing your cloak in place around you. Carefully it was eased off you and set aside with a soft grin she guided you into the bathroom where they helped you strip layer by layer and held out their hands aiding your lowering down the steps into the bath. On the built in bench you scrubbed yourself clean under the water while they undid your braids then helped you ease your head back to wash, rinse then comb out and dry your hair when you sat up on the edge of the tub on a stool they brought you. Biting your lip you waited until they had finished and you were freed to stand again.

Down your back the decorated braid rested and you were able to pull on a fresh pair of panties and strapless half corset to aid your bust in remaining in place. The gown chosen for you was the most extravagant you’d ever worn, a long sleeveless low dipping gown coated in shimmering silver stones with a built in cape designed to resemble butterfly wings. All of which appearing silver until hit by the light then glowed in bright shades of blue, green and yellow. Delicately you were eased into the gown and then you stayed still for the Elleths to secure a silver tiara with green butterflies to circle your head seemingly alive and resting in your braided back curls. Lastly a set of matching silver beaded flats were added to complete the look.

**_… Back in Erebor …_ **

Holding a pocket kerchief in his hands to carefully fold Bilbo walked through to the dining hall only to hastily shove the thing into his pocket and shout, “THORIN!”

Abruptly the fun halted for the Durin King, who chuckled in his turn to his Consort, then felt his grin drop at the scowl on the Hobbit’s face, “Yes **Kidhuzural**?” (Golden One)

His head titled and he felt his fists clench halting the other Dwarves from their playtime as well, “Just what are you doing?”

Dain chuckled, “Why we’re pretending what we’d do at the pointy eared Princess’ feast-..”

His words halted at Bilbo’s raised finger, “Thorin, what are You doing?”

Thorin’s hand motioned to Dain, “Exactly-,”

Bilbo stomped his foot, “Thorin! You knew how hard Nique worked to scrub this place knowing you had a King visiting. That your plan was to have some sort of celebration! You knew that she woke up at the crack of dawn today to cook for said celebration and still you toss it about as if it was nothing!”

Thorin let out a haughty chuckle tilting his head for a moment, “Bilbo, for Dwarves it is quite a compliment-.”

“Let me put this into perspective for you! For Hobbits this is one of the biggest insults you could give someone! Just as if I shaved Dain there bald for no reason!” Thorin swallowed dryly feeling his face drop completely, “Wasting food, spoiling a perfectly scrubbed and pristinely set dining hall fit for Kings! You better hope my Mother-.”

Thorin stepped closer to him feeling his heart shatter at what he’d done, asking in a frail tone, “Mother?!”

Bilbo nodded, “Yes Thorin! Nique took me in and cared for me as her own since the day my parents died. Why else would I insist on bringing her here?”

Thorin, “You never said she was-.”

“And why would I? You seem to be so against Elves. Even here, even when, since the birth of Hobbits she has been with us keeping us safe and far from the destruction of your former home! What good would that do? All it would do is encourage your lying to her to respect her bond to me! You’d just bury your resentment for her race all for a fondness for me.”

Thorin, “I love you, so far beyond fondness-.”

“Then why?! Why would you do this? Allow this? Even if she hadn’t raised me? She faced wargs and Azog in your place Thorin when you fell if you’ve forgotten! Freed us all from those trolls! Managed to blow up that damn Goblin town! What more does she have to do to earn your respect?!”

Dain tried to cut in but he kept on, “But no, you hate the Elves! They didn’t race foolishly head first in all their flammable glory to Die trying to keep your friendship in exile, No! No, their King protected his people from a foe he knew they couldn’t defeat alone! But no, he’d have to foolishly go and kill half or possibly more of his people to stay in your good graces! It’d be even then! You, your home and kinsmen, they would have to lose their King and army!”

Thorin, “Bilbo please-.”

“Don’t you dare try to wiggle your way out of this!”

Thorin, “Our Pebble, don’t get so worked up. Please, calm down.”

Bilbo scoffed, “Calm down…” Turning around towards the door, “I will be calm when I ensure my mother knows nothing of this.” Then he turned back, “DO you know who you’ve insulted?! Hm? My mother is Daughter of High King Ingwe! His only daughter!” Around the room Dwarves swallowed dryly, and Thorin shook his head partially doubting the insult himself, “Again, a title she spared you so she would be spared the insult of your excluding her of your hatred for all Elves! Hoping you’d see the error of your blanket judgment!”

Thorin moved to walk after him only to have Bilbo turn and say, “No, by all means, stay, Your Majesty.” Instantly spotting Thorin’s pained tensing at the title, “You missed half of that wall. Don’t let me spoil your, games. I will be off, being calm.” His hands settled on his slightly rounded stomach in his march through the door off in search of you.

Behind him the deflated mood of the Dwarves left them to one option, peering around at just how much work had gone into all they had ruined. All the possessive whispers and hissing voice of the void beckoning them deeper into the sickness died entirely leaving just a painful silence. The perfectly shining emerald granite walls and floors up to a certain height where it was blackened still, tables coated with the finest table cloths to be found hiding the charred and scuffed tops to them. China and golden goblets all polished to pristine condition with a mouthwatering meal none had bothered to taste before scattering about. All covering his golden armor, thick fur vest and currently knotting up into his splayed out hair and crown. What could be saved was finished off and used to fuel the wave of scrubbing to follow.

Hall by hall Bilbo checked the usual places you would hide, even out in the greenhouse you had mended to feed the guests and company tonight. Lastly he stopped in your room in the tavern and then felt his scowl lock into place, turning sharply to head back to his room he shared with Thorin. With only a simple note reading, _‘I will send word once I have located my Mother.’_ He gathered all his things and fled the same way you had, grateful he was still in the early days of his pregnancy easing the task of doing so.

Out in the whipping wind pelting his back with snow he turned holding his hood in place only to spot a glowing white stag staring right at him across the short bridge. In a slow trot he moved closer then lowered on his front bent legs stirring a grin on Bilbo’s face, “Why thank you.” Timidly he climbed on and settled, holding tight to his neck in the rise and abrupt race back to the woods through the worsening storm.

All the while with his mind racing back to the days of his slide backwards into the pool of adoration for the King and harsh tug into being head over heels signaling the hormonal shift in him enabling his pregnancy. As always the gender fluid creatures, with whom both gender can carry and birth young, the surprise was evident with the Dwarves, and somehow this magical event had been turned political. He was now a Consort and propriety was called for since their apparent and painfully dubbed ‘Affair’ had resulted in a child the returning Dwarves were all too uncertain of. This was supposed to be a happy time, but they had changed, Thorin had changed. And Bilbo wasn’t about to stay and watch the love of his life wither from his former self to the sound of elated jeers from the other clouded Dwarves.

He had to find you, and he hoped this magical stag he was clutching to knew the way to your path. Deeper and deeper into the storm they rode until they broke free into the warm forest. In a hasty flip of his hood the snow was forced off of it and he inched up a bit at the slow but still rapid pace of his steed gaining the attentions of the Elven guard along the way. Abruptly a gate came into view and the faces of the guards outside turned to the magical Stag and promptly they hurried over to aid the frost coated Hobbit down from his back. In the arms of one of them, at his legs resistance to standing, he was carried straight to the King, who was in a passing path towards a final errand.

Halting in place looked over Bilbo then stated, “You must be freezing. We are preparing a feast for tonight. You are welcome-.”

Elrond came around the corner only to call out, “Bilbo!” Hurrying over he eased his hand over the Hobbit’s cheek testing his temperature stating, “Your Naneth arrived not long ago. We will take you to her quarters to warm up and ready. I’ve brought a supply of Hobbit sized clothes as well along with the gowns we have fashioned for her.”

Thranduil followed after them asking Elrond, “Naneth?”

Bilbo nodded, “Nique took me in when my parents passed.”

Thranduil’s mind wandered back to your pie again and then he stated, “Then by all means, you are welcome to stay as long as you wish with your Naneth. I will have a healer come to check on your little one.”

Bilbo, “Oh, I’m fine.”

Thranduil, “All the same, I insist. That is not a kind storm brewing out there.” Turning away, in your open doorway he caught his first glimpse of you in your gifted garments and froze in awe until the doors were shut behind Elrond when they walked inside.

Abruptly as he heard the welcoming commotion inside Thranduil turned to the doors behind him and walked through, straight into his dining room where he had left your pie for tasting for later. Carefully he uncovered then drew out the still warm pie he then sliced and served a piece onto a plate at the snap of his patience. A slice of his fork later he was humming around his mouthful at the splendorous marvel wrapped in fluffy buttery crust. His front door was opened freeing Elrond to enter and find the King melted into his chair blushing in adoration for the clear effort you had baked into his best pie ever.

_“Taste this.”_

Elrond moved closer claiming the sliver of a slice offered him and fork for himself only to be left in the same puddle of endless bliss, _“These are the sweetest berries I’ve ever tasted, and that buttery crust… Where-?”_

Thranduil grinned as he debating taking another slice, _“The Princess baked this for me.”_

Elrond raised a brow, _“I am not certain, she was raised by Hobbits you know, she might not be aware-,”_

 _“All the same.”_ He stood patting Elrond’s side guiding him to return to he planning, _“A courtship has been offered and I will do all I can to earn her, splendorous show of affection for me in return. Come, I have a Queen to prepare for.”_ Leading his friend who was still stealing glances back at his half eaten slice longingly on the way to the hall.

…

“Bilbo?” Your eyes lowered from the open mouthed King to your adopted son and you joined him on his path to the fire while the Elleths brought in a basin they filled with warm water from the spring they gently poured and dabbed over his feet and ankles while you pressed warm cloths around the back of his neck and wrapped him in a thick blanket. Speaking in Vanyaran, _“What are you doing here?”_

Bilbo looked up at you, _“I had to make certain you were safe and happy. Thorin-,”_

You shook your head, _“Don’t you worry about that. He isn’t himself it seems.”_ In a turn of your head you remembered something, “Hold on, I almost forgot.” On your feet you turned and walked into your room to open your pack where you brought out a sun stained piece of cloth wrapped around something you carried back into the other room where one of the guards readying to leave halted when she felt your eyes on her. “Could you give this to the King, please?”

She bowed her head, “Of course Princess.”

Ignoring your desire to correct her you turned and went back to Bilbo’s side to finish warming him up and help him change into a fresh pair of clothes gifted from Elrond, _“I see Elrond shared your news, that’s why the King’s so pleased at your stay?”_

 _“I don’t think he was aware I was with the Dwarves at all until Elrond’s letter. I wouldn’t assume he would be so callous to extend his irritation from Thorin onto me because of a contract I had with him.”_ Out of your sight you missed the grins on the Elleths leaving you alone with Bilbo now that he was checked over by a healer, warmed and redressed. _“No matter what Thorin assumes of him.”_

Bilbo, _“So, what are we doing here? Waiting for him to snap out of it?”_

You tilted your head, _“I was hoping for shelter, somewhere close to you. Though I assume now we are waiting for him to come to his senses and apologize to you.”_

Wetting his lips he said, _“There seems to be a party planned, I hope we haven’t put him out too much.”_

You giggled softly saying, _“He said we were welcome. That there was room for more guests always. Not much I can do in argument past that, especially with all this work Elrond put into the gowns and circlet he had made for me.”_

Bilbo nodded and chuckled, _“True.”_

…

Back in his path to the final check on the winding garden ballroom outside the large dining hall packed with tables Thranduil’s head tilted and he asked Elrond, “Should we add more star flowers to the arrangements overhead?”

Elrond shook his head, “No. They look lovely.” His hand planted on the King’s shoulder, “Do not worry.”

Thranduil drew in a breath then whispered back lowly in Doriathian, _“If I do not appease her interest she will not reward my worthiness with a second gift.”_

Elrond readied to open his mouth until he spotted the eager Elleth trotting into the garden peering around only to rush to the King when she spotted him next to a tall statue at the base of a pillar holding up the zigzagging arches running through the garden draped by strings of flowers and glowing crystal lamps. Wordlessly his eyes followed her in her approach and prompt bow of her head saying, “Forgive my tardiness to my post My King, but the Princess asked me to deliver this to you.”

Thranduil nodded his head and raised the parcel by the intricate knot at the top, “Of course.” Before anything else could be said she bowed her head and turned to head back to her post. Around the King all Elves stole curious glances at the King in his path back to his chambers with Elrond beside him with a curious smirk at the blush spreading from the King’s ears to his cheeks.

Behind the thick door Thranduil moved to the table in his dining room where Elrond stole the chance to finish his slice of pie while watching the King slumped in his chair stare at his present with fingers tapping in front of his lips. _“Are you going to open it?”_

Elrond quipped only to see the King tap his fingers after a momentary pause making the Lord reach over, _“I will-,”_

Thranduil swatted his hand away briskly and straightened up on the edge of his seat, _“I will do it.”_ Wiggling his fingers over the knot he was trying to work out the secret of for a moment before he gave one of the folds a tug and steadily worked out the trick knot with a grin. Each fold of the fabric revealing a sacred flower coated in a tale of separated lovers, Tilion, guide to the vessel leading the Moon and Arien, guide to the Sun. The pair only granted one night a month to share their home in the sky and for each child the conceived a star was sent in a blazing trail across the sky alerting all to their great gift. The cloth alone was thought to be a lost relic from their old kingdom of Doriath and the broken chest inside with white gems spilling out from the sideways askew lid making him gasp at the glowing gift.

Elrond shifted his empty plate away leaning in to ask, _“She returned your gems?”_

Thranduil eased the lid open seeing the velvet pouch inside the lid he undid revealing the necklace hidden inside, _“My naneth’s necklace.”_ Lowering it to the cloth, “ _Thorin said he’d destroyed them.”_

Elrond, _“Clearly he lied. Or thought he had.”_ He leaned closer, _“The chest has clearly seen better days.”_

Softly he replied, _“I doubt she understands, there is no gift I can give, to properly show my gratitude in return.”_ Lowering his arms around the chest onto the table.

Elrond grinned at him resting his hand on his forearm resting on the table, _“Perhaps that is why she chose this binding for it.”_ His eyes locking with the King’s, _“Tilion bore his adoration in secret after a single glance, and it was not until their first night of the moonless sky when he had a chance to share his affections. She could not see his interest in her when she deemed all unable to meet her eyes. She has given you a gift just as Tilion granted her a sacred glowing scale from the rarest fish in all of Ulmo’s seas glowing brighter than the moon and sun combined he fashioned into a necklace for her with the sturdiest chain Aule would grant him lessons on forming. She dreamed herself unworthy even then. Just choose a gift meaningful to the both of you. Living among Hobbits simple joys are treasured most, by her blush and feigning away from the extravagance of my gifts I imagine simple comforts will be your best bet.”_

Thranduil blinked at him, _“Simple comforts? What in all of Arda could I possibly fashion-, Elrond, you know me! What craft could I demonstrate to show her the simple comforts of life?”_

Elrond chuckled, _“You were fated to meet. Surely you will find something.”_


End file.
